Oodleday

Two things:

1. If you have the time you need to listen to Matt Carter’s sermon from this morning at the Stone- I don’t normally talk quite a bit about church on here because sometimes I think the last thing someone trying to learn about Christianity or church or the Stone in particular needs to do is read about it here amidst my silliness, but today really shook me to the black rubber soles of my shoes and people should hear it. Matt talked about a place called Pattaya, Thailand, and how a band called Bluetree went there with their hearts on a mission and came home with this amazing song they wrote while they were there called “God in this city”. It’s a really lovely song. But the main part was when Matt said something like “You need to find your Pattaya, you need to go there, and you need to live on mission for Christ.” We need to find the places pulling us closer, and we need to go there and live as if we’re sent by God; to love people wholeheartedly and to do good work. I had to promise my dad when I was telling him about this that I wouldn’t go to Thailand. I don’t need to. New York is my Pattaya and the conviction hit me like a wrecking ball, knocking doubts from my head like bloody teeth. New York is my Pattaya. New York is my home. I hear its siren song begin to whisper in the breeze of future days. I hear it and the choice is not a choice anymore despite whatever else confounds me. Africa was Lily’s Pattaya. New York is mine.

2. The poem I wrote yesterday was in reaction to reviewing the news stories I’ve collected about Megan Meier, a young girl from Missouri who killed herself after a friend’s mom posed as a teenage boy to befriend, romance, and then humiliate and scorn young Megan, who had a history of depression and ADHD. Match, meet gasoline.

The “alleged” perp (I say alleged for reasons I’ll explain later) is one Lori Drew, a helicopter parent who got involved in her daughter’s capricious affairs (being 13 and all everything is temporary) to a tragic and fatal extent.

The thing is, well, since there’s no law about cyber bullying, there’s no crime:

Ultimately, the U.S. attorney’s office decided no charges could be filed against the Drews or the family friend, Ashley Grills, who told the FBI that Lori Drew would sometimes dictate messages for “Josh” to send Megan.

The St. Charles County prosecutor, Jack Banas, reached the same conclusion, explaining that no statutes against harassment, stalking or child endangerment could be applied here. What happened to Megan was despicable, he said, but for it to be considered criminal the state would have to prove that the hoax was intended to frighten or disturb Megan, not merely elicit information. The Los Angeles Times, citing an anonymous source, reported yesterday that federal prosecutors in California are investigating whether MySpace, which is based in Santa Monica, was defrauded by the perpetrators of the “Josh Evans” hoax.

“If Megan had taken her life with bullets and guns I had in the house, I’d be in jail,” says her bitter father. “But they did it with a computer and are walking free.”

It should be noted that it’s important for people to fight to protect our children and it’s important that we pass laws relevant to our changing society, but no matter what law you enact or how closely you monitor your kids on the internet, Megan Meier is still dead. Lori Drew is still Lori Drew. There’s still too much up in the air to deem her a murderer but the court of public opinion has already found her guilty and she’s punished for it every day, in her own little way, legally, by people who care enough to want to avenge Megan and change the world.

It’s not enough, though.

It’s no enough because I dream of the scent of Asher’s hair. Asher Charlotte. My little girl. I hear Claire Leann’s clinking teacups and the rustle of her fairy princess tutu, and I swear, on a clear day, in the silent air between sleep and wakefulness I can feel Berkeley Shea’s curls around my fingers. My daughters wait, waiting, waiting, dormant in the ether; low, quaking rumbles only I hear, predicting the rapture of my entire world and the overturn of my every selfish moment in a new birth of devotion. Everything I am, I am for you.

And it breaks me down in the darkest recesses of my soul, the most basic elements of my womanhood, to know that a MOTHER can swindle and betray a DAUGHTER, even if it’s not their own. Even in what they believe to be the best interest of their children. Parents can be so misguided sometimes, I’m sure I will be at some point, because they just try to do the right thing and who knows what that is?

It’s not enough because of all the things I’m prepared to protect my children from (all of them, not just the girls), other people being completely batshit insane isn’t something I’m ever going to be able to completely shield them from. Kids pick on my kids? Fine, I’ll comfort them, buy them the cool lunchbox or whatever, hope it builds their character. They don’t make the t-ball team? We’ll learn golf. They’re gay? Fantastic. We’ll watch AbFab on DVD. They don’t want to be Methodists? Or Christians at all? We’ll encourage them to find what brings them closer to God and pray it’s Jesus. We’ll handle these things. But a grown adult bullying a child is something I’ll never be able to understand, never empathize with, never be able to rationalize into even conditional acceptance.

God is strange, but his wisdom is all-surpassing. It’s not for us to understand why a sweet, beautiful, kind girl only spent 13 years among us, but in the midst of all this turmoil laws are being passed and great change is coming to hopefully prevent another child from being cruelly abused this way. In this life or after, Lori Drew will get what she deserves. But when my heavy-lidded eyes succumb to the cashmere void I pray to see their faces, and wake up in the morning with a renewed sense of hope.

February 18th, 2008 | Category: In the News, New York, Theology | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL